


if i am purified

by sylvainplath



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Boob Jobs, Come Eating, Established Relationship, Grief (mentioned), M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, sylvain likes being told what to do
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-12
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:00:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22218184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sylvainplath/pseuds/sylvainplath
Summary: Sylvain is stressed. Dimitri helps him unwind. Like, with his tits.
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 5
Kudos: 143





	if i am purified

**Author's Note:**

> This is purely Dimitri giving Sylvain a boob job. That's. It. kinda thank god bc this was initially a lot longer but then i was like...no thanks just porn.
> 
> As for warnings - vague mentions of sibling abuse, but I didn't go into it. It's just there bc Miklan is mentioned.
> 
> Also. I must give some credit to Reun from the dimivain discord server, they helped me figure out why Sylvain was upset! I just wanted to write boob job, so.

“Sit down.” Dimitri tells him. A command. Sylvain swallows.

“Of course, your Majesty,” he says. His throat is dry and his eyes are wide.

There’s an extraordinarily soft sofa at the back of Dimitri’s office, put there by Felix and Ingrid for Dimitri to rest on when the ghosts keep him from working. He rarely uses it, but he has been trying. Perhaps - well, perhaps this time with Sylvain will encourage him to use it. He’s been alright of late, but he can feel himself inching toward another episode.

He resolves to use this experience as something good for himself, not only Sylvain. If he is to grow, to heal, he must try to enjoy himself. 

He has just returned from a meeting with Alliance lords. He ran into Sylvain, angry and fresh from a fight with Felix, on his way to his office. It is the week of Miklan’s birth. Sylvain always struggles with this time of year. He’s been distant in his effort to hide it, because Dimitri knows him too well to believe his smiles now. Dimitri has made too much progress emotionally to be convinced. 

At any rate, Dimitri has only seen him in bed, or at Sylvain’s request. He’s trying to respect Sylvain’s struggles. Especially, he doesn’t want to intrude on a place in Sylvain’s life that he wasn’t part of. He was only a child, a monarch in name only. Surely, though, he could have...

But when he encountered Sylvain in the hallway, he had been...bitter, with Dimitri, for avoiding him. So they talked, and Dimitri decided that Sylvain needed something new. He led him to his office, then.

Right now, though.

Right now Sylvain settles himself on the sofa, which is Faerghus royal blue and plush to the touch. There are bags under his eyes, weary swelling indents colored almost like a bruise. Auburn hair in uncharacteristic disarray, curling in odd directions and settling in his eyes. Dimitri wants to touch it. But first -

He gets on his knees in front of the sofa. At Sylvain’s feet. He lifts his head, gazing up at Sylvain. He pulls off his silk gloves, sets them to the side of the sofa. Steels himself for what he is about to do - boast his authority. He hates to do it, but Sylvain has expressed great delight in being bossed around by a king. His king.

Voice sharp, eye burning straight into Sylvain’s eyes, the both of them, Dimitri orders, “Undress me.”

Sylvain gasps softly. Dimitri can see him starting to get hard through his pants. He’s...not hard to rile up, is he? No, he isn’t. He never is, because he...likes Dimitri. Oddly enough.

Sylvain moves to unclasp Dimitri’s cape, and as he pushes it off Dimitri’s shoulders and it hits the floor, Dimitri cups him through his trousers. His eyes flutter shut so prettily.

“Mm,” Sylvain sighs, before he refocuses to unbutton Dimitri’s blouse. It’s dark blue today, which is a color Sylvain loves on him. He hadn’t intended to wear it for Sylvain when he chose it this morning, but...it worked out quite nicely. Dimitri smiles up at him.

“Come here a moment.” 

Sylvain’s eyes are so soft when he leans down. Dimitri’s breath stutters. He’s so beautiful and so open right now - happy to be with Dimitri but miserable in general, tired and sad but sincere in his love. 

Dimitri kisses him. All over his face, his cheeks first. His chin, his nose, his forehead. He kisses his neck softly, sucks on the flesh at his Adam’s apple. Sylvain is breathing heavily, quietly but labored, by the time Dimitri settles at his mouth. He licks Sylvain’s lower lip. Nips it gently. Mouths at the line of his lips until Sylvain opens it and then Dimitri slides his tongue inside to love him. He moves his head sideways, just a bit, and Sylvain does the same. Dimitri licks all inside his mouth, as far back as he can reach. So lovely, Sylvain is. He wants to kiss him _moremoremore_. Sylvain is so warm. Dimitri might like to hide inside him and never come out.

But he has a purpose, and so tears himself away. He is surprised when all his hair falls into his face at their separation. 

“Sorry, my King, I got carried away,” Sylvain smirks down at him, holding his hair tie. And yet. He is smirking, but his eyes are so soft and his smirk is too. So soft. Dimitri feels like he’s wrapped up in furs just from the way Sylvain looks at him. Foolishly, Dimitri feels that he could survive even in the tundra with only Sylvain’s smiles to warm him.

Dimitri cannot help himself if he must sit on his knees gazing up at what he loves most.

“I love you.” he says, nearly whispering. “I want you to be happy. I want to make you happy.” 

Sylvain smiles down at him, so gently. Dimitri could choke, and in fact, he might. Sylvain tugs his blouse down his shoulders, slides his hands all over Dimitri’s chest. His nails rake across the place he loves so much, tracing circles on Dimitri’s nipples. 

“I love you too. You _do_ make me happy, I’m happier than I’ve ever been before. Sometimes it’s just...hard,” Sylvain whispers, now mussing Dimitri’s hair. 

“...I know.”

Sylvain smiles at him again, kisses his forehead.

Dimitri has strayed from his plan, _again_. Why must he always be so - 

“Stop thinking, Dima. Hey, listen, weren’t you gonna do something to me?” and bless him, he sounds playful.

“Yes. Let me at your trousers, please.” 

“‘Course, baby.”

Dimitri unbuckles his leather belt. He unbuttons the waist of Sylvain’s trousers and motions for Sylvain to lift his hips up so Dimitri can pull them down all the way. He strokes Sylvain in his underwear until pearls of precome stain them, then he pulls them off as well. Sylvain whines, bucking his hips where Dimitri’s hand used to be.

“You like my chest, don’t you?” Dimitri asks, trying for confidence. In truth, he is quite nervous. Sylvain has a peculiar obsession with Dimitri’s chest, certainly, but...they’ve never done this before. Or even spoken of it. 

It’s Dimitri’s consuming wish to surprise and please Sylvain that helps him take this leap. Sylvain’s lips parts and his eyes widen just a little. “Yes. Yes, I love your chest, I want to suffocate in it, actually.”

“I - I -” Dimitri stutters. “ _Please_ don’t.”

Sylvain throws his head back in heavy laughter. He’s so beautiful. Dimitri’s heart is pounding and his cock is throbbing, because - the low pitch of Sylvain’s genuine laughter is. It’s. It does things to him. Suddenly, Dimitri wants very badly to swallow his cock, but no.

Dimitri attempts to regain himself. “Then just - sit back, lover. Don’t think about anything. Just let me touch you.”

“Can do, your Majesty,” Sylvain pipes.

Dimitri kneels closer, as close as he can get, Sylvain’s cock dripping in front of him. He takes it roughly in his hands, because he knows Sylvain will like it, but he cannot refrain from being gentle when he kisses the slit of his cock. 

“Oh,” Sylvain whines.

Dimitri can admit that his chest is rather - large. Bulky. Perhaps more shapely than most. And yes, thick. So it isn’t much trouble to slide Sylvain’s large wet cock in between his pecs. Sylvain’s eyes are closed, so he doesn’t see what Dimitri is doing until he feels it. His cock can’t completely hide inside Dimitri’s chest, but Dimitri can work with this. He can work with this just fine. 

“Hhah - what’re you -” Sylvain splutters, and then he opens his eyes. His jaw actually drops. “Holy shit.”

Dimitri feels his stomach coil. “Do you - should I stop?”

“Oh _fuck_ no, Sothis, I never even thought - Just keep going. Please,” Sylvain stumbles out, pupils blown. He can’t stop staring at his cock resting in Dimitri’s chest. “This is all my fuckin’ dreams come true, babe.”

“You could have said -” Dimitri starts, but Sylvain is desperate. 

“Please pleeease kill me with your boobs, Dima.”

“Uh...no thank you, but I get the point,” the corners of Dimitri’s lips lift just a little. Not a smile, but something pleased.

Sylvain hums vaguely, thrusting carefully into Dimitri. Perhaps this plan doesn’t involve Dimitri as more than a receptacle, but. It’s quite arousing to see Sylvain in such a frenzied state. They sleep together often, but Sylvain is rarely so frazzled in so short a time.

Dimitri grabs Sylvain by the base of his cock, tugs him into Dimitri’s breast the way he would jerk him off. He’s not...experienced, with this, so he is going off of what he knows. Sylvain is so wet he doesn’t need anything else to move comfortably. 

“Sylvain, look at you,” Dimitri breathes. “You’re such a mess. So gorgeous.”

Sylvain is already flushed from getting jerked off via chest, but this makes him blush and keen. He snaps his hips forward, inelegantly. If Dimitri were weaker, he might’ve stumbled by the force.

“Mn...yeah…” he pants. “Such a mess. Just a wet little mess, for you.”

They never got to his pants, so Dimitri’s cock is still covered, trapped inside layers of fabric. He can’t help grinding himself against the base of the sofa. He speeds up his pace, moving Sylvain faster and faster into his breast. He takes his other hand and palms Sylvain’s balls ruthlessly.

“I want to see you _writhe_ , Sylvain.”

The thing is - Sylvain _is_ writhing. Has been, for a bit now. His thighs tremble fiercely, and he kicks at the air above Dimitri’s head, where his knees hook over Dimitri’s shoulders, trying to steady himself, but he _can’t_. He’s losing himself rapidly, and by the sheen on his forehead, Dimitri knows he’s going to come soon. 

Sylvain is feverish, chanting to himself, “my king, mineminemine, my king, my friend my prince my Dimitri, my, my - mm, _hah_ , my Dima,” and then his entire body shudders violently.

Sylvain spurts scorching come all over them. It lands on Dimitri’s chest, his neck, the underside of his chin. There’s a splash beneath his lower lip. Sylvain clutches Dimitri’s hair in his flurry, pulling and scratching and _screaming_. Dimitri strokes him through his release, thumbing at his leaking slit until Sylvain falls bonelessly into the cushions of the sofa.

Dimitri busies himself by gathering up the seed he’s covered in, slides two fingers across himself to collect it. He laps it off of his own fingers slowly, intimate in its own way.

Sylvain makes himself sentient while Dimitri is busy, apparently, because when Dimitri is done, he finds Sylvain looking down at him with a faintly puzzled expression.

“I will never let a drop of you go to waste,” he says. Solemnly, which will probably make Sylvain laugh. But he means it. 

Sylvain laughs, shaken. “I love you so much.”

“And I, you. Now rest. You need it. This is not a suggestion.” 

Sylvain settles back against the pillows, legs spread open. “Mkay. But you’ve gotta rest with me, or no deal, baby.”

Dimitri gulps at the sight. “Yes. Fine. I’ll try.”

“Good boy. But first, let’s take care of you down there. Get up here.” Sylvain’s smile is devilish.

Dimitri obeys.

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, Sylvain calls him baby. No, I don't take criticisms on that.
> 
> my fic/3h twitter is @sylvainplath if you want to yell at me. thx for reading :-*


End file.
